


rhythm of the falling rain

by buckydarling



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Sharing Clothes, might add a second chapter, these boys are so good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 01:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13964808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckydarling/pseuds/buckydarling
Summary: The newsies hated rainy days.(Or, the origin story of Mush's iconic green shirt.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i never write blush and that's a crime tbh
> 
> this is short and kinda sucks but i wanted to post something
> 
> enjoy

While it was pretty safe to say that no one in New York liked rain all that much, no one loathed it more than the newsboys did.

 

Rain meant working outside, standing in the cold, letting your clothes get soaked and cold droplets run down your neck; it meant scrambling to find an awning to stand under where the store owner wouldn’t kick you out; it meant buying less papes than usual, because the thin paper would get wet and pulpy and the ink would run, and then you wouldn’t have anything to sell at all and you’d go to bed hungry. Rain meant more boys got sick, especially in the winter; sometimes Denton or a group of boys would chip in for a few extra blankets or a container of cheap cough medicine, but otherwise it was tough to keep yourself safe from the germs. 

 

If it weren’t for all those things, Mush would like rain, he decided. It made soothing noises on the roof of the lodging house, and in the summer it provided a cooling respite from the heat. Some of the smaller newsies were scared of thunder, and even some of the older boys (though they’d never admit it), but Mush didn’t mind the booming rolls of sound that echoed from the sky, indicating the arrival of craggy gray clouds that loomed over the city like mountains. Jack drew them sometimes when he had some extra paper and a pencil; Mush had a sketch of what Davey called a cumulonimbus pinned above his bunk, etched on a faded piece of newsprint and signed with a  _ JK.  _

 

On a February day, however, Mush found rain just as unpleasant as everyone else did. It’d started overnight and wasn’t showing any signs of stopping; Mush had found an awning to shelter under for the morning with his papes, but the grocery store owner had kicked him out around noon because he was driving away customers. He’d only sold fourteen papes out of the fifty he’d bought, and he kept losing them to the rain; he finally gave up and took one out of the bundle to attempt to shelter his head with as a freezing wind blasted down the street, raindrops soaking him to the bone and sending a chill down his spine. 

 

By the time he made it back to the lodging house that evening, Mush’s shirt was stiff with cold and sticking to his body. He shook the water out of his curls like a dog, wandering upstairs unsteadily as his cold-stiff limbs got used to the relative warmth of the building. Making his way over to his bunk, Mush dug around in his small bag that he kept under his bed, only to realize he couldn’t find any clean shirts; his only other one he’d sent with Katherine to be washed. (She did that for them sometimes now; it was the least she could do, she insisted, making sure their things got washed every so often.) It was worth it to Mush to get his things back and have them be soft and nice-smelling, but it meant right now he was down to the shirt he was wearing, and if he kept it on any longer he’d get sick. 

 

Looking at Blink’s bunk, he noticed two shirts lying folded neatly on the bedspread; the soft tan one Blink tended to favor, and a worn light green shirt that looked about a size too big. Mush hesitated - Blink might not be okay with Mush taking his stuff - but another breeze from outside blasted into the room and caught the freezing wet fabric of Mush’s shirt, and suddenly he just wanted nothing more than to be in something warm and dry. He stripped off his wet shirt, draping it over the edge of one of the sinks to dry, then grabbed the green shirt and pulled it on, letting out a sigh of relief as the warm fabric hit his cold skin. 

 

The shirt was soft and warm and a few sizes too big on Mush; Blink was a little taller than him. It smelled like Blink, warm and familiar and comforting, like the soap Kloppman bought sometimes for the lodging house and newsprint ink and the spice of the chestnut cart Blink liked to sell beside sometimes because it was warm. Letting the sleeves unroll and fall past his fingertips, Mush clambered into his bunk and wrapped himself in his thin blanket, closing his eyes as he willed himself to stop shivering. 

 

Other boys began to trickle back in slowly, talking in low voices as they complained about how many papes they’d lost and changed into dry clothes.  Mush felt himself dozing off as a low clamor filled the room, the comforting familiar noises of the lodging house lulling him into a light sleep, when --

 

“Mush? Is that my shirt?”

 

Mush’s eyes snapped open to find Blink crouched by his bunk, looking amused and a little pink in the face. His fluffy blond hair was plastered flat to his head with rain. Mush blushed red, picking at one of the sleeves and not meeting Blink’s gaze. 

 

“I didn’t have any dry clothes,” he muttered. “Sorry, I should’ve asked, you can have it back--”

 

“No!” Blink burst out suddenly, and Mush paused, looking at his best friend quizzically. Blink flushed beet red. “I mean, you don’t have anything dry,” he explained awkwardly. “Not gonna make you take it off. It’s fine. You can keep it,” he ran a hand through his hair, “or whatever.”

 

Mush smiled bashfully, his face burning. “Thanks,” he said, and neither of them looked right at each other, but when Mush wrapped the shirt just a little tighter around himself he swore he saw Blink smile just a little wider.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two bc i have no impulse control

The next day, Mush kept Blink’s shirt on. 

 

Because his own shirt was still wet, of course. And it was easier than changing. Obviously. It was the logical thing to do. 

 

(Not the fact, of course, that it smelled like Blink still, and that it was soft, and that Blink’s face went just a little red when Mush came downstairs. That wasn’t the reason at all.)

 

The sun was finally out, and it was surprisingly balmy out for February; Mush picked a busy street corner and balanced swinging from a lamp post, hollering some bullshit headlines from the back of the paper. There was something about it that made selling that day feel more injected with energy, more fulfilling than the day before; maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the smell of chestnuts roasting in the park across the way, or maybe it was the faded green fabric and the way it sat on Mush’s shoulders just so, like it belonged there. 

 

Whatever it was, Mush sold all his papes in record time and had enough spare change to buy himself a bread roll on the way home, big enough to share. 

 

~

 

He wore the shirt the next day, too. 

 

~

 

By the third day, Mush felt kind of bad; his own shirt was already dry, and Katherine had come back with their laundry already. He really had no excuse to keep it. He frowned, looking down and plucking at the collar of the shirt; he didn’t  _ want  _ to give it back. But it was a nice shirt and Blink probably missed it, so Mush resolved to give it back that day.

 

Back at the lodging house, Blink was miraculously the only one there; the other boys were all out enjoying the nice weather while it lasted. Mush wandered up to the bunk they shared, Blink’s feet dangling off the top. Mush fixed his blanket on the bottom bunk, killing time before he spoke. 

 

“Hey, Blink?” he asked, and Blink looked up from where he’d been playing with a loose thread on his shorts. 

 

“Yeah, Mushee?” he asked, and Mush’s cheeks warmed at the old nickname. 

 

“Do you, uh,” he straightened up, looking down at his feet, “want your shirt back?” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I feel bad keeping it. You probably need it back.” Blink was silent for a few seconds, and when Mush looked up his friend’s cheeks were red. 

 

“I mean,” Blink said, stuttering a little, “uh, no, Mush, I don’t  _ need  _ it back. Looks better on you anyway.” Mush blushed. 

 

“But see, my shirts are back from laundry now. I’ve got four shirts including this one,” he said, “and you’ve only got two.” Blink shrugged. 

 

“So we’ll swap,” he explained. “Here.” He hopped down from his bunk and shrugged out of his tan shirt, grabbing a striped shirt of Mush’s from his bunk that was a few sizes too big for both of them and pulling it on. “There,” he said. “Perfect.”

 

Mush’s brain almost short-circuited seeing Blink wearing his shirt. The faded stripes brought out the blue in his eyes to a startling hue, and his fluffy hair was mussed from tugging the collar over his head. Blink’s expression softened with confusion. “What?” he asked, looking down with sudden shyness and tugging on one of the sleeves, and it was all so uncharacteristic of Blink that Mush wanted nothing more than to kiss the stupid shy expression off his face. 

 

So, naturally, that was what he did. 

 

He had to just stand on his toes to close the distance between them, fisting both hands into the fabric of Blink’s shirt -  _ his  _ shirt - and pressing their lips hesitantly together. Blink let out a soft gasp, tilting his head and kissing back as he wound a hand into Mush’s wiry curls. Their bodies pressed flush together as they explored each others mouths slowly and unhurriedly, Mush nipping cautiously at Blink’s bottom lip and eliciting a noise he wanted to hear again and again and again. He didn’t know how long they stood there trading soft kisses and shared breaths, but eventually they broke apart, gazing into each other’s eyes with their foreheads pressed together. 

 

“You know,” Mush whispered, “I think I kinda like you wearin’ my shirts.”

 

Blink just laughed and leaned in to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: hispanicjackkelly

**Author's Note:**

> lmk if you want a second chapter!!
> 
> shoutout to my pals for supporting this idea love u all


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